


This is Crazy

by Azriel_Lolita



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, I dabble in drunk writing, M/M, Slow Burn, incest ahoy, my ot3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azriel_Lolita/pseuds/Azriel_Lolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the Holmes Boys met Gregory Lestrade, and seduced him. <br/>rating may go up in later chapters if I attempt the smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Crazy

Mycroft Holmes took a deep drag on his cigarette before he tossed it on the ground and stomped it out. A shiny coin caught his attention and he bent over to pick it up. He sighed as he tossed it into the wishing well he was leaning against and wish for the millionth time he didn’t have a brother as infuriating and as beautifully alluring as Sherlock.

If you asked him we would deny it, vehemently, that we would resort to something as juvenile as wishing to wishing wells. He looked across the park to the crime scene staring at the Detective Inspector currently arguing with his brother. He smirked as he saw the DI slap a pair of handcuffs on Sherlock’s wrists at the same time he heard the faint ‘ploink’ of the coin hit the water.

He decided that now was as good a time as any to play the part as meddling older brother. He lazily straightened himself up and adjusted his suit and strolled over to the crime scene, immediately coming in contact with the young DI who had just arrested his brother.

“Excuse me Detective, but you’re in my way.” He eyed the inspector from head to toe. He didn’t believe in love at first sight but lust? That was a completely different matter. He would give every penny he had to just burry his hands in the hair of the man standing in front of him to pull him into a very satisfying snog, in full view of his brother. That could provoke a wonderful, jealousy fueled, reaction. But he was here for business, not pleasure. Ok so maybe seeing his brother manhandled like was a bit pleasurable, but that was not his intent when setting out on this venture.

“Excuse you?! This is MY crime scene you’re attempting to just waltz into buddy. If I didn’t know any better I would say you were that crazy junkie’s bro-“

The police man stopped mid sentence as his saw the resemblance between the strung out junkie he just threw into the back of his police car and the posh tit in the three-piece suit in front of him.

“Oh.”

“Now if you wouldn’t mind I need to have a few words with my brother. I wasn’t looking for this… altercation, but now you are in my way.”

As Mycroft lifted the police tape and sauntered over to the back of the police cruiser he could feel the Detectives eyes on him, his stare trying to hold Mycroft in place as he just acted like he owned the entire world.

Mycroft resisted the urge to look back even though he now knew the DI’s current appearance by heart. The ripped jeans from when he had to tackle Sherlock to the ground when he tried to resist arrest. His button up shirt missing the top few buttons (again because of Sherlock, Mycroft would definitely have to thank his brother for that later) showing a tantalizing expanse of skin.

He bent over to open the police door and immediately pushed his brother back inside the police cruiser and took in his appearance. Rumpled and ripped clothes courtesy of the lovely DI (Mycroft really should send him a fruit basket, or a lovely bottle of Cognac), bloody nose and wild manic eyes, courtesy of the drugs.

For a second Sherlock struggled, Mycroft put an immediate stop to that by gently pressing the base of Sherlock’s throat with the tip of his umbrella.

“Now, now Sherlock, none of that. You crashed this crime scene high, you can’t have expected this to go any differently. Drug use is very dangerous and very illegal, and you must pay the consequences.”

Sherlock just glared at his older brother.

“Don’t pretend you care at all about the legality of this, _Mycroft_.” 

Mycroft snorted his amusement.

“Of course not, just the paperwork I could do without, but I could of course make all this go away. If you come with me and agree to go to a rehabilitation clinic.” 

Sherlock sneered up at his brother.

“Piss off.” 

“Very well little brother, you know how I worry. Find a way to call me if you change your mind.”

With that he slammed the door in Sherlock’s face and began to walk away. He would probably be made to regret that later, in fact he was counting on it.

Detective Inspector Lestrade watched the man walking towards his car, frozen in spot by the audacity of the posh bloke who seemed to think he owned the world. Lestrade thought that just might be the case judging by the expensive suit and the aristocratic air of the man in front of him.

It should be illegal to be that much of a posh twat and be so attractive. The hot night’s breeze playing with the man’s auburn hair making one slight floof ruffle in the wind. Floof? Where did that word come from? It wasn’t even a word. But really, that was the only word for it. It wasn’t quite a curl but it wasn’t just a regular strand of hair either. Both those Holmes Boys were ridiculously attractive, and it really wasn’t fair, one family hogging all the really good DNA. As Lestrade realized he spent a good minute or so contemplating the man’s hair he shook himself back into reality and realized the posh man was walking away from the crime scene.

Suddenly remembering he was a cop he yelled to the man, “HEY! Where do you think you’re going?!”

Mycroft turned to the police officer now advancing towards him and stopped walking, leaning against his umbrella with a bored expression on his face. 

"What? Not going to demand I let your brother go?”

“Of course not Inspector, he broke the law, he needs to remember that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Now, here is my number, if my brother asks for me, call me.”

“Are you serious, I don’t even know your name! And this is crazy! Why would I call you? You have given me no reason to trust, or believe you.”

“The name’s Mycroft Holmes that is my brother, Sherlock. If he asks for me I will send him immediately to a rehabilitation clinic. I already know all about you Detective Inspector. Grew up with a single working mother and joined the force as soon as you were old enough. Steadily made your way up through the ranks but will probably not advance and further. Not for incompetence, for you are an excellent law man, but because you would hate to leave the excitement. You live for the job and the thrill it brings you, which is probably why your marriage is failing. You have two kids; at least one is under the age of 3 judging by the chocolate stains on the shoulder of your shirt. Now did I get anything wrong? Judging by your silence and the fact that your mouth is hanging open wide agape I will assume that is a ‘no’.  You have no real reason to trust me but you have no real reason NOT to trust me as well.  Here’s my number, so call me.”

“Maybe I should punch you instead,” Lestrade muttered as he was staring at the ground in between their feet. It was hard to look right at Mycroft after he laid out his life before him. And he kept insisting, here’s my number, so call me. Like Mycroft knew Lestrade and him were going to become well acquainted. Lestrade just met this man, this was absolutely insane, but he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his wallet and removed his own card to hand over to Mycroft. After digging up the courage to look into the icy, steel blue eyes in front of him, he handed over his card.

“My name is Greg Lestrade, here’s my number. If you want to get to know me so well maybe you should be the one calling me.”

“Oh I assure you _Gregory_ in my line of work I have to deal with an extraordinary amount of very important meetings with very important men, and women. They would probably chase me down and chain me to the conference table if I was to try to abandon a meeting with the people of their caliber to make a simple phone call, but if you were to call me I could say it was an emergency and would be able to answer.”

With that Mycroft turned and walked away without giving the man a chance to respond, but he did anyway.

Lestrade knew a power play when he saw one. And it all clicked into place, the posh suit, the ‘I’m better than everyone for miles, and the ‘important meetings’ he alluded to all screamed government. Probably very high up if his I-can-do-anything-I-want-because-I’m-Mycroft-Bloody-Holmes attitude was any indication. He smirked as he yelled to the back of the man walking away from him, “maybe I will, maybe I won’t Mycroft Holmes. You cannot intimidate me.”

**Author's Note:**

> *shifty eyes* no this was not at all inspired by copious amounts of alcohol and Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.


End file.
